Why We Need an EZ Rap Genre
50yr old MCs shouldn’t feel the need to rap like they grandbabies
Although they were scratching the surface of their 30s, it was still pretty depressing to see. Run DMC, the group that had changed the way people perceived rappers, empowered the everyday b-boy, and ushered in the realism trend that persists to this day, were following trends.
The bald heads were bad enough. But to see them there, in all Black fatigues, tightly laced boots…whew, it hurt.
But that’s rap, innit.
The argument remains that it’s a young man’s game; that one can be too old to rap. And while there is some truth to that, it’s mostly because there is no place for mature rappers to work out in. Which is why we propose — EZ Rap.
I was never a Young MC fan by any stretch, but it was something unnerving about seeing him.
Always a novelty act at best, Young MC was playing himself (no pun intended) entertaining a software convention in the 2009 film, Up in Air, and it was just awkward…for me.
Five years my senior, Young MC could have been in the same Doctor’s lobby as me waiting to get his prostrate checked and I wouldn’t have recognized him. And there he was performing the awful-when-he-released-it, Grammy Winning, “Bust a Move,” a rounder shadow of his former self.
Is that where old rappers go off to pasture?
Last summer, many of us older rap fans winced as Dr. Dre rehashed the same old tropes that he once espoused 30+ years ago.
A few weeks back, we groaned as Lil Uzi Vert referred to perhaps one of the greatest producers of all time, DJ Premier’s beats, as just “drums.”
The final straw was the recent “announcement” that LL was coming out of “retirement,” donning that golden microphone, and giving the rap game what he feels it's missing…
Think on this: when LL, six years into his career, told the rap community not to “call it a comeback” many of the present crop of rappers had yet to be born.
The first time I heard LL back in ‘84, I was blown away. Back before we ever saw rappers, before their image was first, we heard the music for months…sometimes years…before ever seeing them. LL was no exception.
There were no rap magazines. No rap video shows. We first saw LL styling on his debut album, Radio. Everything about him was new.
To the modern eyes, it’s nothing. He’s in all black, wearing a Kangol, and some Js. So what. Wherein the old man, me, jumps in to point out to you — at this time, aside from the fact that the average cat was wearing Adidas or Puma, the most expensive of which, would only set you back $35 dollars — he’s wearing Nike…Jordan’s … ushering in the mad rush towards a brand that most people considered an afterthought at the time.
It don’t get no cooler than that.
Then there was Krush Groove.
Believe me when I tell you, that movie is Grade-A trash. It was trash to me then. It sucks even more to me now. But this was the first time I saw LL in action…and it was electrifying.
With that 1 minute 17 second performance, the rap game would never be the same anymore.
But now he’s 48.
I’d be wrong to say what the next person should rap about. I can only tell you what I want and don’t want to hear.
I want to hear rappers talk about things that are topical. Bobby Shmurda obviously was rapping about his current life…well, former life. Vincent Staples debut album felt like he was giving me a tour through his everyday Long Beach crawl; from Manson looking Uber drivers, to gang conflict, I was there for it.
What I don’t want to hear is rappers who have gone on tour a few times, traveled the earth, and still rap about the same things. I don’t want to hear rappers in their 40s talking about being up in strip clubs…that’s just creepy. I don’t want to hear any rappers bringing up their hustles from decades ago.
In short, I want honesty.
This is where Oddisee wins. Although he’s not old enough to start getting his life insurance and burial plans in order, he’s not a teenager either and his songs reflect that. Nary a song is dedicated to his intoxicant of choice or what he be like up in a club.
This is a place that Phonte should stay in. From the very beginning with Lil Brother, when I heard, “Song For You,” I knew that I would be a fan. His lyrics are relatable to my everyday life. Even when he does mention being in a club, like he does in “Sending My Love,” I can roll with him.
And this is a lane that De La Soul damn near invented. De La ain’t never made music that wasn’t honest.
So perhaps this is why we view the so-called “return” of LL with consternation; how honest can it be?
If LL Cool J were free, he could come out and rap about being an MC approaching 50. He could wax poetic about never having a day job. He could reflect on being a part of a label that made rap mainstream. In short, LL could function in the role of a griot.
But as one writer coined, there is no nation for an old rapper. And really, in the modern Black community, there’s no place for older people…period. When I say older people, I mean Generation X.
Baby Boomers are free to don those stocking socks and line dance until their hearts content. Millineals can rap about, photograph, record, self-medicate themselves until the cows come home. But us Generation Xers, man, there’s no place for us. We’re young enough to still have an idea about what’s going on in the world but old enough to not emulate it.
So if we created an EZ Rap genre, then it could protect the integrity (and ears) of all who hold this music dear and true. If I start a petition, please, sign it. But until then, click on that heart, and refer this to your friends.
Let’s let LL know…it’s ok to be yourself. Someone still loves you. You might just have to change your name to AL Cool J…Auntie Loves Cool J.
